


Musical Tastes

by Pens_and_Portraits



Category: Agent Pendergast Series - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Genre: Complete, Drabble, Ficlet, How Do I Tag, I might do a sequel, Inspired by Music, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Playlist, only really gay, traffic is a pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-21 14:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pens_and_Portraits/pseuds/Pens_and_Portraits
Summary: Discontinued until further noticeSpecial Agent Pendergast and Lieutenant Vincent D'Agosta are inbound on a crime scene and end up getting stuck in traffic.Prompt was given to me by my friend EATTENTION: I'm not receiving comments from Ao3, if please send your recommendations again! Thank you!





	1. Brooklyn

The 1959 Roll Royce Silver Wraith glided down the streets of lower Manhattan, making its journey ever more South. The commanding form pulled off to the shoulder in front of One Police Plaza, allowing another passenger to climb in. After which, it merged back into traffic turning left onto the Avenue of the Finest.

The occupants of the Rolls, sitting in the front were none other than Special Agent Pendergast and Lieutenant Vincent D’Agosta.

 

Lieutenant Vincent D’Agosta sifted through the papers once more, glancing over the neat cursive writing of Pendergast’s footnotes. The two were on their way to Flatbush in Brooklyn, investigating a homicide resulting from a supposed "creature" attacking a couple who were riding their bikes through the park. The drive was an easy 20-minute drive from One Police Plaza and shouldn’t have been a problem. However, it was. After turning onto Pearl Street and merging onto the Brooklyn Bridge, heading Southbound, the two had learned that there was a massive pileup not half a mile over the East River.

This might not have been such a problem, except for the fact they were not in a police car and had no siren or lights. Not that it would matter, seeing as you could barely fit a person between each car, with others pulling off to the shoulder to try and sneak around other cars. A serious hazard to public safety. Traffic control had their hands full.

 

As the two neared the middle of the East River, the came to a halt.

“What the hell?” Exclaimed D’Agosta, catching himself before he could fall to the floor.

“It appears that there may be a roadblock up ahead,” the Southern accent started, “There must have been an accident.”

Vincent cocked a brow at the agent wondering just how he knew it was an accident. As if reading his mind, Pendergast answered.

“Judging by the amount of traffic and very little, to no personnel on site, added with no current worker signs present, the only reasonable explanation would be that there’s an accident.”

D’Agosta gave a face of annoyance and radioed into the main signal.

“Hey, does someone want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Dispatch replied hastily “Well, there’s a robbery on 5th, and-”

“Not that! I’m talking about the bridge, what the hell’s going on the Brooklyn Bridge?”

Dispatch took a moment before answering.

‘There's been a bad accident sir. Both sides have been blocked off for the time being. The traffic’s wall to wall, we couldn’t get to you through even if we tried.”

 

D’Agosta swore. “How long will it take to get us outta here?”

“About an hour sir.”

“ _An hour_?” D’Agosta started with a tone of aggravation. “Get us out in 30, or I’ll have your ass pushed back to parking ticket duty.”

“Yessir,” Dispatch nervously replied.

D’Agosta put the receiver down, a huff of irritation.

Pendergast shifted slightly in the driver’s seat.

 

The Rolls inched forward before stopping behind a gaudy looking, gold painted, Toyota.

“What an eyesore.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Replied the agent.

D’Agosta looked towards the blonde haired man. He’d been quiet during the whole conversation and not once had looked over at him.

“Hey, uh, we’re probably gonna be here for a while…”

The agent looked over at the officer, a flash of aggravation in his silvery eyes.

“...Or maybe not.” D’Agosta added.

“My apologies Vincent,” Pendergast turned back to look at the road. “I find myself vexed when it comes to traffic, it’s nothing that you’ve done.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He chimed.

 

“Say, why don’t we listen to some music. It might help to calm us both down.” D’Agost fumbled with the seatbelt momentarily, before unbuckling it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.

 “I’m afraid I might put a damper on your idea by saying that I have no musical interests as of the moment.”

Vincent looked back up at the man, smiling. “Lucky for you, I’ve got loads of music.” He gestured, holding up an iPhone.

Pendergast went silent for a moment, “How utterly delightful.”

D’Agosta heard a twinge of annoyance in the man’s voice but paid no mind.

“Were you not the same man who was so against this technology?” A smug look crossed the agents’ features.

“Listen, you were the one who told me to try it.”

 

As the Rolls idled by, Pendergast’s discomfort mounted, no thanks to the dreadful sight in front of him. The crudely painted Toyota Corolla made his eyebrows furrow, and it took a moment for Pendergast to realize that the bass was rattling the whole frame.

“Anything but what he’s playing,” he muttered to himself as the first song began.


	2. Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley

-Move yourself, you always live your life   
Never thinking of the future   
Prove yourself

  
You are the move you make   
Take your chances win or loser   
See yourself, you are the steps you take   
You and you and that's the only way   
Shake, shake yourself

  
You are every move you make   
So the story goes   
Owner of a lonely heart   
Owner of a lonely heart   
(Much better than a)   
Owner of a broken heart   
Owner of a lonely heart…-

As the song continued to play, Pendergast found himself raising a blonde eyebrow, perplexed. Taking notice of the reaction, D’Agosta lowered the volume.   
“Any thoughts?”   
Pendergast thought for a moment, before clearing his throat.   
“From what I’ve heard, this song suggests that this man, or rather the listener, in this case, is lonely simply for the fact that he hasn’t “put himself out there” so to speak. That the listener has potentially- no, indefinitely, been hurt before. I find that its meaning is forefront, but is clear and concise to get its point across. Is there a proper reason for me to hear this song?”   
“I wasn’t asking for a free response Pendergast. And no, there is no hidden meaning as to why I played this song.” D’Agosta replied. “Don’t listen with your brain.”   
Pendergast’s pale face colored ever so slightly.   
“My apologies… I’m afraid I can’t help myself sometimes.”   
D’Agosta refrained a smile and began to play the next song. “Why don’t we try… the 60s? Around the time you were born, right? Oh, Frank Sinatra's one of my favorites.”

“You remember the year I was born?” Pendergast couldn’t keep the tone out of his voice.

“Of course I do! I even remember your birthday” D’Agosta teased as he turned the volume back up.

 

-And then there suddenly appeared before me   
The only one my arms will hold   
I heard somebody whisper "Please adore me"   
And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold!

  
Blue moon!    
Now I'm no longer alone   
Without a dream in my heart   
Without a love of my own…-

 

“I believe I’ve heard this one before.”

“Ya, it was written back in the 30s before Sinatra covered it” D’Agosta commented plainly, watching as the traffic moved ahead another inch. “I think Elvis also did a cover of it.” He continued, turning back to the conversation.

“Is that so?”

“I think I have a song of his somewhere.” The car went silent for a moment as D’Agosta scrolled through the playlist.

“An interesting man he was…”

D’Agosta gave a look. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that the man was a prodigy when it came to his music.” Pendergast inched the car forward before continuing. “While, not the inventor of neither jazz or rock, the man had indeed pioneered the term to the spotlight. I do not consider his music to be much of an interest, rather, what he did with it. As entertaining as the music itself was, Presley had managed to package it all and stamp a signature on it. Tell me, Vincent, what do you recall about Elvis besides the music?”

D’Agosta dismissed the suggestion of just listening, and decided to meet the man at a halfway.

“The way he danced? His face? His strange appetite? His...uh, untimely death?”

Pendergast gave a light smile. “Precisely. He, perhaps without intention, had managed to make the whole country swoon for him. He had put emphasis on his style and character and was deemed as ‘the King’. Not only has he made a name for himself in music, but he has cemented himself into early 20th-century culture.”   
D’Agosta couldn’t help but smile. And here he thought that Pendergast would hate Elvis for his loud rock and roll music.  _ Keep proving me wrong. _

D’Agosta hit play.

 

-Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew   
When I bit off more than I could chew   
But through it all, when there was doubt   
I ate it up and spit it out   
I faced it all and I stood tall   
And did it my way

  
I've loved, I've laughed and cried   
I've had my fill my share of losing   
And now, as tears subside   
I find it all so amusing…-

  
Vincent sighed, relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls, watching  tow truck  workers scrambling to clear a path for traffic to get by. Vincent was somewhat thankful to escape the hectic life of a Lieutenant and be able to spend time doing nothing. As he glanced over to Pendergast, he took note of pensive look on his face.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering exactly when this song was released. Sinatra sang it well.”

“I hate to be that guy, but Elvis sang it before Frank Sinatra was even alive.”

A glimmer of challenge sparked in the man’s grey eyes.

“Au contraire, mon ami. I’m afraid, while the dates are very close together, Sinatra was still able to beat Presley out in the timeline. Which would make sense with the timeline of popular music in America, Sinatra coming from the 1930's and Presley molding a lot of his style from other musical influence that Sinatra came from.”

Vincent went silent for a moment. “I thought Elvis had my back on this one”, he chuckled.

"I'm really bad with dates"

Pendergast laughed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off of a conversation my friend E and I had.


	3. Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter

-Oh well, I'm the type of guy who will never settle down   
Where pretty girls are, well you know that I'm around   
I kiss 'em and I love 'em cause to me they're all the same   
I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name   
They call me the wanderer   
Yeah, the wanderer   
I roam around, around, around…-

 

D’Agosta watched as the cars ahead started moving again, only this time they kept moving. Albeit, very slowly, but that meant that things were clearing up fast. D’Agosta secretly wanted to stay where they were. Maybe, just for a little bit longer. In the peaceful moment where he could just spend time with his best friend.

Pendergast on the other hand wasn’t quite paying attention to the road, he was busy trying to stop his fingers from tapping against the steering wheel. He refrained from giving away his enjoyment of the song.

Pendergast’s focus came back when he heard the distant honking and the rumbling of cars from behind. He cleared his throat feeling a grin emanate from the passenger beside him. A twinge of embarrassment hit him as he let his foot off the brake. 

“Not a word, Vincent” The man threw his hands up in defense and remained quiet. Pendergast could have sworn he heard him chuckling.

The two let the next song play.

  
(Lori Lieberman)

-I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd   
I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud   
I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on   
Strumming my pain with his fingers   
Singing my life with his words   
Killing me softly with his song   
Killing me softly with his song   
Telling my whole life with his words   
Killing me softly…-

 

D’Agosta waited as the song played out for Pendergast to say something, but was surprised to find the agent quiet. D’Agosta turned down the volume for the next song and turned to the blonde.

He followed the agents line of sight to over the roofs of several cars. When he looked back, Pendergast had a distant look on his face.

“You… Ok?”

Pendergast did not respond, his pale hands gripping the steering wheel momentarily before dropping into his lap. The agent sat back in his seat, still focusing on another world. D’Agosta had figured that the song had struck a chord with him, and decided to keep to himself.

Around 30 seconds later, the agent returned to the present. He blinked in quick succession and swallowed. He straightened up and placed his hands back on the wheel. Vincent took notice of the slight hesitation.

D’Agosta spoke first. “Haunting?”   
Pendergast nodded and looked at the officer. “How did…?”

“That song has the tendency to do that to a lot of people.” He smiled. “Myself included. Especially the original recording. Although, I think everyone sees something different when they hear it. I know Hayward sees her happiness with her mother, and I see… something else.”

D’Agosta shook away the thought and smiled warmly. “I think the lack of a backing track helps with that feeling. You can’t help but focus on the woman’s voice. I do-”

Pendergast raised his hand to silence Vincent. “May we kindly move along from this subject?”

Vincent nodded quickly and immediately turned up the volume for the next song. “Hopefully something more upbeat.”

As the Rolls purred, moving forward at a gradual pace, a ukulele accompanied with snapping began its tune through the speakers. A voice as sweet as caramel soon joined in.

“I have a question   
It might seem strange,   
How are your lungs?   
Are they in pain?   
'Cause mine are aching   
Think I know why-”

 

As realization struck him, Vincent scrambled to skip the song. He felt his face grow warm as he struggled to unlock his phone.  _ Shit, uh… how the hell?   _

The song continued unrelentingly. 

 

“I kinda like it, though   
You wanna try?   
Oh, would you be   
So kind   
As to fall in love with me, you see   
I'm trying’-”

Pendergast’s eyebrow raised, as the realization dawned on him, he fought back a smile. He tightened his lips, unable to fully conceal the smirk on his face.

Vincent finally managed to skip over the song, feeling bashful, and relieved at the same time. He swallowed thickly and cast his eyes straight ahead. He realized he was being watched by the agent and tried his best to play it off. Vincent rubbed his hand over his face in dismay.

Pendergast opened his mouth to speak. “Might I ask-”

“No, you may not.”

“Very well.”

A techno sounding rhythm came on before a voice spoke. “Looks innocent enough, doesn’t it?”

The voice sounded like a radio host, only, with more of a threatening undertone. No, threatening wasn’t quite it…

 

-Hey, a casual affair   
That could go anywhere   
And only for tonight   
Take any moment, any time   
A lover on the left   
A sinner on the right…-

 

This time, the two men let the song play out, letting themselves just enjoy each other’s company once more. It was by this time that traffic had finally let up enough for the people stuck on the bridge to cross over into North Brooklyn. Pendergast steered the Rolls out and around the golden atrocity that plagued them for 30 whole minutes and used the right two lanes to get onto the expressway. 

Now, it was only a matter of 8 minutes until they reached the crime scene. Pendergast had been counting down the miles and minutes as they went. Apart of him was eager to finally arrive, to see just what sort of ‘creature’ was involved. To feel the thrill of a chase.

And yet, deep down, beyond his intrigue, there lied a mystery. He felt a pang of guilt flood through him as he realized that he would have to leave the car. But the car had never been so much a concern beforehand, so why was it now? For what reason he couldn’t quite clearly see. 

Perhaps, he thought, he just enjoyed the company. He’d had the company of Constance and Proctor, but, there was nothing quite like this. He’d gone on drives with them, even Doctor Kelly, yet… 

A new thought struck him to the core as he realized just how nice it was to enjoy the company of another.

There was nothing quite like a drive with an old friend.  _ Yes, that was most certainly it.  _

The thought brought a pleasant smile to his face as he recalled a few tight spots the two of them, Vincent and himself, got into. 

To not have to worry about guns and running and hiding and… murder. 

To not have to have the world placed on his shoulders. 

To have another person to share the burden.

 

Pendergast turned left onto Caton Avenue, returning from his thoughts he heard Vincent humming along to a wordless song. He pulled up to the curb across the street from Prospect Park, the scene filled with rubberneckers and shouting officers.

Vincent shifted before sliding his phone back into his pocket and unbuckling his seatbelt once more. He was opening the passenger door when a hand on his arm stopped him. When he looked towards his friend he was greeted with those pale silvery eyes. The blond had a look of concern lining his face. 

“What’s on your mind?” Vincent asked.

“I was curious… Would it be any trouble if…” The man’s honeyed voice trailed off.

“If I?”

“If you’d be interested in doing this again. I find pleasantries together very calming and soothing, and if you would like to continue to listen to music, or perhaps read or-” Pendergast’s train of thought was still there, however, it soon turned into rambling.

Vincent couldn’t help but smile. “I’d be more than happy to have your company again. You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Pendergast smiled in turn, the lines around his eyes and mouth now clearly visible.

“Now, let’s go… how do you say it? ‘Kick ass, and take names?’”

Vincent laughed far too loudly for it to be appropriate at a crime scene. “Exactly!”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I miss anything? Please, let me know.
> 
> If you'd like to send in a recommendation of a song for Pendergast's reaction, drop me a line.


End file.
